I heard you scream
by SemiSimpleShipper
Summary: Derek comes from a family of werewolves, a screaming boy is far from the most unusual thing he has seen...yet, somehow, he can't keep the boy out of his mind. So he keeps coming back to watch and listen, but eventually just observing isn't enough.
1. You Screamed

A boy screaming at the top of his lungs while perched high on the rocky hill is really not that peculiar. Derek comes from a family ofwerewolves,a screaming boy is far from the most unusual thing he has seen.

Yet, he keeps returning to the same spot whenever he catches the familiar scent of the boy. And when the boy climbs to his precarious throne, Derek is always already in the woods watching. Then listening, as the boy opens his mouth and screams into the wind.

He just looks so innocent, so soft and out of place against the harsh, rocky background. He's young, no more than ten, with freckles and moles dotting his pale skin and shaggy longish hair flopping against his forehead. His lips are so red, look so soft, and it's ridiculous that such an appealing mouth is capable of such anguished screams.

Sometimes he's angry, his face stony and his eyes hard as he screams loud and long until his throat is raw and his voice is broken. Then, he stands against the wind, looking for all the world like he'll fall from the cliff accidentally or even throw himself into the wind just because gravity dares to say he can't. Those times, Derek is on edge, always ready to run out and catch the fragile human body. He never has to, but he knows that he would. Always, anytime. He'd catch the screaming boy before he hit the ground even if it killed him.

Usually, however, the boy is sad, his eyes are full and his face is contorted, crumbled. Those times his screams are haunting, heartbreaking sounds that hurt to listen to. Those times, the screams last only a short time before they give way to even more heartbreaking sobs that make something in Derek shatter. Then, the boy isn't standing proudly, angrily, insolently, instead he's slumped against the rock, his back against the rough cliff and his arms wrapped around his tiny body. Those times, Derek has to claw his own hands to shreds to stop himself from revealing himself just so he can replace those skinny arms with his own and pull the young body against his own.

It was one of those times that Derek first, finally showed himself.

He'd been training hard to master the full shift, to be the first of his siblings to imitate his mum so fully. He knew Laura had been trying also, and there had being a fierce rivalry between them as they batted to be the first. The first to be at one with their wolf so completely, the first to prove themselves, the first to make their parents proud. He'd been trying for months, yet it was the screaming boy who gave him the final push to change.

Derek couldn't explain his urge to get closer to the boy, only that it was there, and that he couldn't do it as a human. So it was as a wolf- a full wolf!- that Derek made himself known to the boy who screamed.

He wasn't sure what he expected, perhaps for the boy to automatically recognize Derek as a friend, maybe for him to be wary of the big (but smaller than Derek had hoped, it's actually sort of embarrassing), black wolf appearing out of the shadows to join him. He could have even screamed and backed away, like a normal, intelligent person would do upon meeting a wolf in the woods.

Of course, the screaming boy didn't do anything expected, which Derek shouldn't have been so surprised at in retrospective. It wasn't like a boy who regularly came out to the middle of nowhere just to climb a rocky cliff so he could scream into nothing would react to anything the way a normal, predictable person would. Of course, Derek could have done without the surprisingly sharp pocket knife pressed against his neck and a light, lithe,tinybody straddling his fur coated body. It was ridiculous that such a small child could have reacted so fast, caught Derek off guard so completely. It was also ridiculous that such a small child could reasonably expect a wolf to be pinned down by a body that couldn't have weighed more than 25 kg. Derek could overpower the boy in seconds if he wished, but he didn't. He stayed still, stayed down, stayed underneath the heaving body until the boy slipped off on his own.

The pesky knife stayed at his throat though, and it was really quite incredible that the boys hand was so steady compared to the rest of his form, which shook with each shuddering breath he took. He knelt in front of Derek, his chocolate eyes firmly trained on Derek's yellow ones. They stared steadily at each other for seconds, minutes, hours, until suddenly the boy broke away, his hand grasping the pocket knife and expertly closing then pocketing it in seconds.

"There's no wolves in California" is all he said, Derek's ears perking up to catch every muttered word. "So you aren't real." The boy spoke surely, as if just by saying the words aloud made them facts. His high pitched, childish voice echoed in the silence, and Derek stayed still, his head still bowed between his front paws as he basically submitted to the child in front of him. For just a moment he was glad that there was no one around to see him act like this, weakly surrendering to someone he could take down in a moment's breath.

He closed his eyes to remind himself that this was what he wanted, that this was the same boy who he'd been watching day after day. That this was Derek's choice. It took longer than he would have liked to admit to get over his pride and open his eyes again, and even then it was on reflex as he felt a slight pressure against his head.

The boy was still kneeling in front of the wolf, but he had stopped shaking and his hand was now hesitantly running itself over Derek's head, thru his fur and over his barely there mane. Fingers froze for a moment before gently fondling Derek's soft ears, causing the wolf to relax and lean into the pleasure. He only realised his tail was wagging when he became aware of a rhythmic thumping noise behind him, which made his head snap up in astonishment as he looked incredulously behind him. It was embarrassing! He wasn't a dog, he was a teenager, a werewolf, someone with full control who should not be wagging his tail like a common pet.

A muffled noise bought him back to himself, and for the first time he realised that by snapping his head up he'd accidentally hit the boy's own face. Concerned, he snuffled tentatively at the figure in front of him, worried by the shaking shoulders and hidden face. When that didn't change anything, Derek inwardly rolled his eyes and stuffed his whole snout between the arms covering the boy's face, causing them to break apart and reveal it to Derek, who immediately huffed in annoyance as he realised that the boy was laughing-laughing- at him.

Momentarily offended, Derek backed away in indignation. But he didn't leave, no he didn't leave. Because as much as he'd like to deny it, the sound was beautiful, and the sight was breathtaking. A large smile all but covered the freckled face and the eyes that had only a little time ago been filled with tears were clear and bright. The laughter that echoed in the clearing almost erased the memory of anguished screams that Derek had heard earlier. It was a pure, un-guarded moment of complete happiness like he'd never seen on the boy and it filled him with a warm, unexplainable feeling. So no, Derek didn't leave. For one foolish moment he thought he'd never want to leave.

Then the boy was talking again, his voice interrupted by giggles and his shoulders still shaking as he stumbled over his words. "Oh god, your face! C'mon sourwolf, don't look so grumpy, that was gold!"

Derek glared at the boy, wondering for a second how his wolf could even look 'grumpy'. But the boy was still smiling so Derek stayed.

And Derek came back. And the boy kept coming. And Derek kept changing. And sometimes the boy would still scream, sometimes he'd still climb and stand on the edge taunting gravity, sometimes he'd still cry and rage and shout. But most of the time, he'd stay at the bottom of the cliff, lie flat against the soft patches of grass and Derek would lie with him as he talked.

And talked. And talked. The boy talked so much. Far too much of his time was spent insulting Derek-who he insisted on calling sourwolf-for his strange, grumpy, mannerisms, but over time Derek learnt more and more things about the screaming boy. Like his name-Stiles-which was such a ridiculous title it resulted in the younger boy rolling around laughing for a full five minutes at Derek's disbelieving scoff. Stiles laughed more than he cried now, which shouldn't have made Derek so proud, but it did. The boy seemed so much happier now and it was just so right, like the world had been broken but Stiles' smile forced it back together again.

Not that Stiles was always happy, there was, after all a reason he'd started coming here in the first place to let his frustration out, and after time Derek learnt what it was, on a grey day where the boy gripped Derek's fur and kept his arms around the wolf as he sobbed into his fur. Stiles' mum was sick-dying-and there was nothing he could do about it.

"They think I don't know." He whispered, his voice empty like it cost nothing to speak the words but at the time ripped out his very soul to say. "She always…smiles at me and tells me what we're going to do when she gets better and leaves the hospital…and dad always pats my head and tells me it's going to be okay, but I can read and I can hear what they say when they think I'm gone…she's dying.Dying.Leaving me. There'snotgoing to be an after hospital, and it'snotgoing to be okay and I just want them to stoplyingto me! I want to stop being afraid that every time I say goodnight and go back home it's going to be the last time I ever can and I want to hug mum and not be afraid that I'll crush her because I can see through her skin, sourwolf. I can see through her skin. And she's so tiny, I sometimes think I'll break her."

Stiles cried, and Derek felt like crying with him and holding him and helping him and telling him that it'll be okay, but he couldn't. And even if he could, he wouldn't. Because Stiles was right, it wasn't going to be okay and there was nothing he could do about it.

He'd tried, going home after that horrible day and asking his mother if she'd consider giving Stiles' mum the bite. She'd looked at him like she knew what it meant to him, and told him that she couldn't save everyone, and in that moment Derek had hated his mother and he'd told her so, and she'd just opened her arms and he hadn't even hesitated before collapsing into her. Maybe Derek had cried then, maybe he'd felt like raging and screaming and shouting and maybe he could understand why Stiles' had started coming to the cliff in the beginning.

And maybe that's the reason he was so weak when he went out on his own and met Kate. And maybe when she told him he could help her he thought of Stiles and how he couldn't help him and nodded. He'd nodded and he'd followed her and he'd trusted her because he could help her, he was making a difference in her life.

Then she took his family's life and what was there after that? How was he supposed to come back from that? There was darkness and nothing and in his head Derek was at the top of Stiles' cliff just screaming.

Afterwards was a blur, he was rushed from place to place and he had held tight to Laura's hand like he was a child, not a teenager and he'd ended up in the hospital, sitting alone on a chair outside a room where he knew Laura had gone to see Peter.

He smelt Stiles' before he saw him, smelt his familiar scent, recognized how he smelt on one of his bad days, when he cried and screamed but intensified so much, smelling of loss and anguish and death and it was worse than anything Derek could imagine. But he didn't have to imagine it, because Stiles was walking down the hall, trailing his feet with his head down and he was passing Derek and he wasn't looking up and Derek knew that Stiles' had lost his mother like he'd lost his entire family.

Derek knew he could have said something, done something, even felt something for Stiles, but he was drowning and his head was screaming and he didn't deserve to help Stiles. He didn't, couldn't help anyone. So he stayed alone on the chair and Stiles stayed alone as he walked down the corridor and disappeared again. His scent lingered, a bitter smell that only served as a reminder of Derek's failure.

When Laura told him they were leaving Beacon Hills Derek didn't smile, though he felt as though something must have changed on his face by the way Laura's scent changed, like a tiny bit of tension had been let go. It was on the last day that Derek returned to the woods, to the cliff, to Stiles. It was the last day before he started a new life, and the first day since his world had ended that he smelt the boy. He'd walked to the clearing, and he heard Stile's before he saw him, screaming in a new, raw, heartbreaking, unbearable way that made him want to turn around and run. And run and run and run until it stopped hurting.

Derek got to the clearing and he stopped. And he tugged, looking for that switch he'd grown so used to. And he tried to change and only found emptiness. Nothing, where there'd always been something even before he mastered the ability. He'd fallen to the ground, his claws out and digging deep into his palms as he tried to trigger the process, to find his wolf, to bring it back.

By this time Stiles wasn't screaming, but instead shouting. Shouting for Derek. Crying as he ripped off his beanie and Derek saw his shorn hair, so close to his skin where the thick brown locks had clung messily. Stiles looked broken and Derek was broken but he didn't leave even as Stiles swayed dangerously close to the edge.

"Sourwolf! Please! Please I need you. I've never needed you more. I'm alone. I'M ALONE. Come on Sourwolf I know you're there. Come out you stupid beast. COME OUT. Don't leave me. Don't leave me. Don't leave me. Don't leave me."

Stiles shouted until his voice couldn't anymore and even then Derek heard his whisper.Don't leave me don't leave me don'tleaveme.Stiles fell against the rock and Derek fell against a tree and they both cried because they were alone and they were just two broken boys who weren't broken together.

And finally, Derek heard the distant echo of Laura's howl and he left beacon hills to the sound of Stiles' voice.

"Don't leave me."


	2. I heard you

When Derek returned to Beacon Hill's he knew it was a mistake. He only realised this when he stood on his property facing two teenagers and looked into the eyes of a boy who's first thought upon seeing a deadly carnivore was 'attack'.

Stiles laughed and joked with the unfamiliar wolf he called Scott, and he seemed light and happy but his eyes were hard like he was prepared to challenge gravity. And in his ears Derek heard the echo of an angry scream from a boy who deserved so much better. For a moment he was a fifteen year old crouching against a tree, filled with failure as a boy begged him to stay and he turned his face and left the teenagers in the woods.

He couldn't ignore them, even though he tried, and he told himself he'd act the same way if it were someone other than Stiles, but even as he heard the words in his mind he knew it was a lie. Stiles had always changed everything, and this was no different. Suddenly Derek was helping them, suddenly he was in a position to protect Stiles. It was an intoxicating feeling, that he was finally the one with the power to save Stiles.

Of course, he was Derek Hale, so of course he had to mess it up. He didn't know why he'd expected any different really, why he thought that just because he had a second chance he wouldn't fail again. He thought that he'd be able to follow his plan, make everyone else follow his plan and keep Stiles safe and far far away from anything dangerous.

That didn't work, for three reasons. 1, Scott was an idiot. There was really nothing else to say about that, expect that Stiles' taste in friends had certainly lowered since Derek had left. Scott was perhaps the least intelligent person Derek had ever met and he'd lived with Cora for twelve years. Scott was the worst human to choose for the bite and it was just simply exasperating that Derek had to make plans to involve such a ridiculous person. The boy would not stick to any plan, he would not listen to the clearly more experienced werewolf and he couldn't grasp the simple concept of what a blessing the bite was. And that wasn't even touching the Argent factor. Scott was simply an idiot.

The second reason was that Stiles was Stiles and that had not and would not ever change. In some ways that was a great thing, because Derek had always felt drawn to the boy and he was still drawn to the teenager. He was bright, and talkative, and funny, and just exactly the same as Derek remembered. Of course, he was also annoying, and stubborn, and had zero self-preservation skills. And that was a problem. Derek just wanted Stiles safe. Stiles just wanted to save the world. And he refused to listen to Derek and believe that the two could be the same thing if he would just wait, dammit.

Stiles didn't wait. Stiles just ran ahead and did what he thought was best, and sometimes, oftentimes, he was right. Stiles was smart, always had been. He made good plans, Derek couldn't argue that. But unfortunately he never seemed to include his own safety in those plans so Derek was the one who had to desperately try and re-write those plans.

And there was the third reason. Derek was just not good at this. This being, helping. Talking. Being human. Showing emotion.Caring.He wasn't used to it, and he knew he wasn't making a good impression on Stiles as a human, but he couldn't make himself change, even if he tried. So generally, he didn't try. He just watched over the boys, stepped in when he could and in the meantime worked on his own investigation.

When he was forced to interact with the teenagers-with Stiles- he wore a mask that he'd gotten so used to donning whenever Laura forced him out of the house. He knew he wore it well, knew it suited him to be so silent, so he didn't see why suddenly it felt so inadequate. When he was away from beacon hills, when the only person he saw regularly was Laura, he had built the mask, the entirely separate person he could slip into whenever he was in a crowd. That Derek rarely smiled except when he needed to get something, never spoke unless it was completely necessary and didn't willingly go out of his way to make others comfortable. At all. And it had suited him, to always have a persona on hand, somewhere he could retreat to when the people around him just grew to be too much. It was safe. It was easy. It was a shelter.

And now, it was unreliable. Because whenever Stiles looked at him, scoffed at him, insulted him, it was like all the walls had been torn down and the mask was nothing more than a glass screen. Meaning that Stiles could see right through it but Derek was still stuck behind it unable to touch anyone or anything. Stiles made him feel fifteen again and that was dangerous, because Derek Hale at fifteen didnotmake good decisions.

So Derek stayed behind the scenes and desperately tried to build up the wall he'd grown while he was away, but it was a fruitless effort.

Stiles was always there, in his head if not in front of him in the flesh. The issue was, the two kept blending together til the Stiles in his head no longer had thick messy brown locks and wide, innocent eyes and freckles all over his face, but shorn hair and deep, laughing eyes and no freckles but only moles marring light pink skin and Derek knew he had a problem. Especially, when sixteen year old Stiles said or did things that nine year old Stiles had delighted in, like making fun of Derek's grumpy face and smiling at nothingand calling him sourwolf.

The first time it had happened Derek was sure that his heart had stopped, or skipped a beat or something else equally dramatic. It must have done something, if the strange look Scott had given him was any indication. But Derek wasn't looking at Scott in that moment, his eyes were fastened on Stiles' face, the light blush that Stiles' cheeks shone with and the way his eyelids flickered as if he were thinking of a dream, or amemory.Derek had hoped to catch his eye, to see if saying the word had affected him as much as hearing it had, but Stiles kept his head down, and the moment passed as if it were nothing.

But it wasn't nothing, and it wasn't nothing when Stiles kept touching Derek, as if it were just a reflex, something his body did without his mind's instruction. Sometimes Stiles caught himself, and laughed it off or apologized dramatically as if it were a great joke, even as his heartbeat showed that he was absolutely confused by the way his hands were acting of their own accord. For Derek, who had grown so used to having no one touch him at all, it should have been something detestable. But it wasn't, it was something comfortable, it was something he liked, something he maybe even loved against his own judgement.

But he never let Stiles know it was okay.

There were a lot of things he never let Stiles know, actually. The fact that he was the wolf that Stiles used to cuddle and talk to and play with was just one of them. Derek never let Stiles know how much seeing him in danger killed him or why he stuck around after Peter had been killed or how he knew where Stiles lived or that he followed Stiles around occasionally or why he was the one who slit the alpha's throat even after he'd promised Scott that he could do it. The last one, he knew the two teenagers hated him for, but how could he have explained what he felt during that moment?

That in those seconds before his own claws ripped out the throat of his only surviving family member, he'd taken the time to look at Stiles and in mind saw what the future could have been. He'd let Scott take out the Alpha who turned him, let Scott lose the one thing that tied him to Derek and he'd lose any reason he had to stay in Beacon Hills. Or he could take the power for himself, finally lose the blue eyes that had ripped him apart, and finally be the Alpha, the one in control, the one who looked after the people he loved.

So he was selfish, he killed Peter, and he stayed in Beacon Hills and he let himself be hated by the person he'd made the choice for. It was a messed up life and perhaps that was perfect, because it was Derek's life and it had been a long time since his life had been anything but messed up.

There were new challenges, new problems, new nightmares that affected Derek every day, but he wasn't alone in any of them. He built himself a pack, and he knew it wasn't perfect, and he knew that he wasn't a perfect Alpha, but it felt so good, to constantly have the company, to be able to win fights, to have something to show for himself.

Scott was not Derek's beta. He knew this, and on one hand he was glad, because he still didn't like Scott, and he didn't expect that this would ever change. On the other hand, this meant that Stiles wasn't part of his pack either and that was simply frustrating. It would have been so easy if Stiles would just submit to him, but that had never been Stiles' nature and Derek hated to admit that he was secretly a little bit glad that Stiles hadn't changed.

And because Stiles hadn't changed he still trespassed on Derek's property and climbed the cliff that had grown a little bit looser over the years, a little bit more dangerous, a little bit more difficult to scale. He still climbed it, and he still screamed. Not nearly as regularly as he had when he was younger, but occasionally, whenever things got hectic in their life, whenever they lost a fight. Whenever he had to lie to his father to keep him safe.

Derek didn't stay to watch anymore, that was something he wouldn't indulge himself with. But sometimes, if he was feeling particularly weak he'd catch up with Stiles in the woods, always making it seem like an accident. Never as a wolf, he'd long ago accepted that he would never be able to access that part of himself again, but just as Derek Hale. Surprisingly, that seemed to be enough for Stiles. They didn't always talk at first, but eventually, after Stiles was sure that Derek was obligingly ignoring the tear tracks on his face, he'd start rambling. His voice was usually raw, but Derek never commented on it, content to just walk and let Stiles' words wash over him. It was something he'd never expected to have again so he never focussed too much on it, just let it happen.

He barely noticed it at first, but as he spent more time with Stiles, more time with his pack, more time doing things, his wall started to fall on its own. It didn't hurt so much to laugh now, he didn't feel like an imposter when he smiled at people and it actually felt easy to place a hand on Isaac's shoulder when he'd been staring at nothing for a little too long. Or when he caught Erica watching a video of her past self having a seizure, ignorant people laughing wildly, it didn't feel like a challenge to gently take the mobile device out of her hands, then cover the shaking hands with his own as he maintained eye contact while reminding her that she was so much more than her past. Of course, it probably wasn't the best that he also promised her that if she required it he would hunt every last one of the students down and kill them, but it made her smile so maybe it wasn't so bad after all.

It was bizarre, how many people smiled around him lately. Melissa, when she was introduced to the supernatural world and Derek seriously told her that he would try his best to not let the werewolf problems affect Scott's schoolwork. Scott, when Derek solemnly reminded him every month what day the full moon came. Boyd, when Derek frowned authoritatively and informed him that just because he was stronger now it didn't mean he could let his mind slide, because intelligence was more important than strength. And Stiles, Stiles smiled when he saw him now, and that filled him with such a strange warmth.

Derek still started whenever Stiles called him sourwolf, but tried so hard not to let it show. Not to let anything break the careful balance between them. It was hard though, to remember that their past lives shouldn't be mentioned, when Stiles said so many things that just begged for a reference to it.

Like when they spent time together and Jackson made lewd joke that Stiles replied to with a ridiculous wink, naming himself as a screamer. That instance caused Derek to choke on his pizza, his face red and only worsening as Stiles looked at him quizzically before deciding it was his job to enthusiastically thump the werewolf on the back. He made such a show out of it, dramatically making sound effects and grotesque facial expressions as he hopped around pretending that his hand was mortally injured. It made Derek smile, and the others laugh as Stiles looked around satisfactorily and so the moment passed, becoming just another memory.

Like when Stiles was holding Derek up in the school pool, his arms tightly wrapped around Derek and his heartbeat racing as he admitted how frustrated he was at the situation.

"You can scream if you want." The words slipped out of Derek's mouth before he had time to study them, resulting in a curious expression on Stiles face as he twisted to look at Derek.

"Why would I scream?" He asked, sounding honestly confused at the idea.

"I don't know," Derek had said, trying to maintain his steady voice instead of focussing on how close their faces were in this position, "It just makes things easier sometimes, when things are frustrating…or hard. Screaming, it's just an outlet I guess."

Stiles had just given him a smirk and raised his eyebrows. "If you wanted me screaming you should have said something earlier." And well, there was somewhere Derek desperately did not want his mind to go, so he just laughed and Stiles waggled his eyebrows lasciviously.

Derek had wondered, really since he had gotten back to Beacon Hills if Stiles had ever told Scott about the cliff, and it was answered one day after they had together defeated the darach. They hadn't told Derek what exactly had happened to them while he was held prisoner but he could sense in Isaac a certain darkness that told him it wasn't anything good. It hadn't surprised him that Stiles had retreated to his spot in the woods to let out his frustration afterwards.

What did surprise him was coming across Scott as he loitered in the woods waiting to take his regular walk with Stiles.

Scott had looked desperate when he reached Derek, immediately gripping on to the others arms, holding so tight it would have broken the bones of an average human.

"Where's Stiles?" He'd asked desperately. "I heard him scream."

Derek had calmed Scott down, telling him that Stiles was fine, he just needed to be alone. He'd asked the teen if he'd ever heard Stiles scream before, and Scott had replied with a calmer, only slightly trusting 'no'. Then, because he was Scott and he was still annoying, he'd flashed his red eyes at Derek and told him if he was lying he'd make sure Derek regretted it.

"I'd never lie if it was about Stiles." And seriously, what was it with his mouth lately that let words slip without permission? Scott had looked appropriately surprised at the confession, and Derek had hurried to change the subject. "He's your pack." And maybe that still hurt to admit, but he continued. "You haven't heard him before because you weren't an Alpha. But he's fine. He doesn't want you here."

"Why would he want you here and not me?" It was perhaps the first intelligent question Scott had ever asked Derek, and the first one he didn't have an answer to that wasn't 'you're an idiot'.

"Stiles and I have history." Is all he said in reply, and by the look Scott gave him it was woefully inaccurate.

"Just remember, if you even think out hurting him-"

"I'd never hurt Stiles." It was perhaps too fast, said too quickly, and he could feel Scott judging him. But it was the truth, Derek would never let Stiles get hurt by his own hand. Never again.

"Still. I would kill you." Scott said it so assuredly, so certain of his own power that Derek didn't address the change in his heartbeat. Scott wouldn't kill Derek. Scott wouldn't kill anyone.

But- "I'd let you." And Derek knew his heartbeat hadn't stuttered. It was the truth. If he ever hurt Stiles he'd happily let himself be killed. He'd deserve it.

Something must have convinced Scott, because he'd left soon after, and then Stiles had appeared out of the shadows, with a smile that was all for Derek.

It was really strange that nothing had fully let Derek in on the know as to what he really felt for Stiles til something else had invaded the boy's body and a serious option was to end his life completely.

A gun was pointed towards the Nogitsune and all Derek could see was Stiles. Stiles as he was years ago, laughing on the ground and calling him sourwolf while running his tiny fingers over Derek's fur. Stiles as he was when he first returned to Beacon Hills, older but still untamed, flicking him on the ear and telling him what to do. Stiles pressing his warm body against Derek's, Boyd's body on the ground in front of them. Just Stiles, and suddenly Derek realised that life without Stiles was unimaginable. So he'd stepped in front of the weapon and tried not to beg as he reasoned with Chris.

They couldn't kill the Nogitsune's host, because Derek loved Stiles and he wouldn't, couldn't have the boy taken away from him.

The way John had looked at him, Derek knew that he hadn't at all done a good job of keeping the desperation out of his voice but he didn't even care because Chris listened and they saved Stiles. They saved Stiles' body and later his mind and life went on.

Then, then Kate was back and something happened to Derek. They told him she'd changed him, sent his body and mind back to before the fire but Derek couldn't remember any of it. All he knew was that he was fading, he was becoming human, he was weak. He couldn't protect Stiles. Stiles didn't seem to care, if anything he seemed to spend even more time with Derek, and the way he sometimes looked at him…Derek sometimes wondered if there was something Stiles wasn't telling him about the time missing from his memory.

But he didn't have time to focus on that because apparently he was still needed, and according to Braedon, apparently he wasn't completely useless. It was a strange feeling, to hold a gun in his hand, to stab with a knife instead of an extension of his body. To be standing away from someone yet still be able to cause them life-threatening injuries. Braedon was a good tutor, she was stubborn and frank and just Derek's type if it weren't for the fact that he was already in love with a loud-mouthed, annoying, perfect teenager. But she was good for him, she made him feel like he could still help.

That was, until he was lying on the ground, against a wall with wounds through his chest and his life slowly leaving his body, watching as Stiles walked away from him. He told him to go, told him to safe Scott, told him to leave him.

But Stiles was looking back, and closing his eyes and the look on his face was one of remembrance and suddenly he was at Derek's side, whispering to him, his arm curving carefully around Derek's body.

"I'm not going to leave you." The words broke through Derek's haze of pain even as he brokenly instructed Stiles to go away, because couldn't he see that Derek couldn't protect him like this? Stiles didn't leave him. He should have, but he didn't and so Stiles held him and so it was the screaming boy Derek smelt and felt and heard in the moment when a pull he hadn't experienced in so long took hold of him again.

It was ironic, really, that Kate was the one who had brought his wolf back when she was the one who had caused it to disappear in the first place. As soon as he felt the change instinct took over Derek and he immediately felt the need toprotect. So he did. He defeated Kate and it felt so right, so whole, so good. Just like it felt right to look Stiles in the eyes when he changed back and just like it felt right that the teenager didn't even look surprised. It was right.

But it didn't feel right to say goodbye to Scott's pack, the pack Derek had to begrudgingly admit he had belonged to. It felt wrong to exchange words with Scott while carefully avoiding Stiles' eyes as he left. He thought he'd be able to do it, to get in the car and drive off without even looking at the boy, but at the last moment he had caved. He'd turned his head and Stiles hadn't said anything but the look in his eyes was the same look as the boy who'd slumped at the top of a cliff and whispered for a wolf not to leave him.

Derek had closed his eyes and jumped in the car and drove away, vowing to himself that he just had to take care of Kate completely before he could return. That this was one last thing he had to do before he could be happy again. That only after that would he return to Beacon Hills.

Of course, then Chris told him that it could take years and was there anything Derek wanted to take care of before fully joining him? Derek had been leaving before the sentence had even ended.

It was raining, but that didn't deter Stiles as he parked the jeep at the very edge of the woods. He pulled his hoodie up so it covered his head and made his way along a familiar path, feeling his heart beating fast and his chest heaving and his the way his head felt like it was going to explode with the force of the need to just scream. He falls and slipped on the leaves as his feet travel the path on their own, his vision clouding as the tears fell freely. By the time he reaches the clearing he's already bleeding, a shallow gash on his leg where he fell against a stick, splinters visible in his hands, but he doesn't care. He doesn't care. And the rocks are slippery when he starts to climb and he slides a little but that doesn't stop him. And then he's at the top, and he's finally, finally able to scream.

The rain pours against his face as he lifts it up but he doesn't fucking care, he doesn't care that the cliff is more like a waterfall, he doesn't care that the ground underneath him is cracking under his weight. He just wants to scream. Scream at Scott, for daring to smile at Kira like they've won. Scream at his dad, for telling him that it was going to be okay, in the same voice as he had when his mum was sick. Scream at Derek, for leaving him, for leaving him, for leaving him. Just scream at the world.

And he does and it that moment he's free, the world is his, and he screams.

And then he falls.

When Derek smells the scent through the rain he wonders if his abilities are still weakened by what Kate did because the heartbeat is abnormally weak. Then he steps through the trees and he sees the cliff and he sees the grass and he sees the grey sky and he sees the blood and he sees Stiles. And Stiles is so still, his face is so empty, his body so wrong. Derek doesn't even know how he scoops up the boy, doesn't remember running through the rain with the body in his arms, doesn't remember breaking through the hospital doors, doesn't remember refusing to leave even as Melissa wraps her arms around his shoulders and forcefully pulls him away.

He remembers Scott attacking him, his punches and slashes, his shouting, his tears. He knows that he should have felt something when he sees the blood trickling down his skin, but there's nothing but numbness, his eyes never leaving the door keeping Stiles from their view.

He remembers walking with the others when they wheeled Stiles away from the operating unit and into his own room. He doesn't talk with the pack when they sit in the chairs waiting to be told they can visit Stiles. He just keeps his eyes on the ground and it's painfully, eerily similar to the moment after the fire.

He remembers waiting as the others go in first and then it's finally his turn to go see Stiles and he doesn't want to. He doesn't deserve to.

It's John who slaps him this time, right across the face. It stings for only a second but it's enough to make him raise his head and look into the eyes of the sheriff.

"You. You are going to get up, out of this chair and you are going to walk into that room and you are going to see my son and you are not going to stay here and wallow in your own guilt because we all have that and you don't get to be the one who takes it out on Stiles. He's been asking for you, you know? So you're going to go and see him and then later you and I are going to have a long chat." The sheriff's voice is authoritative and stubborn and Derek finds himself nodding.

Then he's in the room, and he's beside the bed and he's holding Stiles' hand (and how did that even happen?) and Stiles is just smiling at him like everything is fine.

"Hey sourwolf, glad you could come." Derek closes his eyes just so he can savor the sound of Stiles' voice, but the boy is having none of that as he tugs on Derek's hand until they open again. "I'm mad at you, you know?"

But he doesn't sound mad, he sounds weak and that's what makes Derek cry. Because he'd always sworn that he'd catch Stiles if he fell but he didn't, because he wasn't there. So he starts apologizing.

"I'm sorry."

"I know, it's okay." It's not okay but Derek holds Stiles and maybe it will be one day.

It's later, when somehow Derek has his arms wrapped fully around Stiles that the boy turns to face him seriously and tells him solemnly,

"I screamed."

"I heard you." And then, because it seems fitting that Derek makes a confession of his own,

"I love you."

"I know." And that makes Stiles laugh for some reason Derek doesn't understand, but his face is beautiful, and it's good. It's even better when Stiles says the words back, and it's almost perfect when Stiles closes the minuscule gap between them and presses their lips together. Almost, because the pack is still outside and Derek knows perfectly well that Scott has been narrating their whole conversation to them and that in just a moment the sheriff is going to burst through the door and-

The End


End file.
